


You Don't Need Love Potions To Fall In Love Quickly

by clippedwingsandshotguns



Series: The Newsies Fantasy AU [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, And First Aid, M/M, also heated kissing, also rated T because there's semi graphic depictions of cleaning up wounds, and sprace, and very very brief mentions of potentially blush, but theres mentions of newsbians, jack kelly is a rogue, oh and mentions of needles for the same reason, this fic is actually completely javid, this might be a series so that i can go into backstories and other relationships, which will be in chapter 3 so if youre uncomfortable you probably dont want to read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clippedwingsandshotguns/pseuds/clippedwingsandshotguns
Summary: Davey Jacobs, the local innkeeper-slash-tavern-keeper knows everyone in town, and for the most part, he's also gotten to know a lot about everyone, after one mug of ale too many. So when someone comes in, dressed head-to-toe in rogue armour and with a stature he doesn't quite recognise, he finds himself interested to know the person.When the rogue pulls down his mask, Davey's interest is piqued by a handsome face, a lazy grin, and scars which tell of stories that Davey is itching to hear about.





	1. in which davey goes rogue

**Author's Note:**

> The things I do instead of studying for my exams.
> 
> Do read the tags, just in case.

The inn that Davey worked at was relatively empty today, most people were likely to still be exhausted from rebuilding the East Wall's homesteads and farms after the last attack by a passing adolescent dragon. Fortunately for Davey, he had been safely here at work, on the western end of the Town Market, which was rather central in this little community they called Wolfden. Davey carefully dried out the last wet mug that was left to be dried, before swiping lazily at the table with the same rag. Slow days were quiet, and quiet was undeniably better than loud days, such as those after the Blood Moon Festivities, when the entire population of Wolfden would be either in this tavern, or right outside, dancing and cheering giddily, after chugging mug after mug of ale. Still, Davey liked it when there were a few people in the inn, with some choosing to vent about their frustrations to him, and others who were there to celebrate small victories, like winning a risky gamble, or the return of a friend from some long-term adventure. Despite not being particularly fond of loud gatherings and suffocating crowds, Davey had a huge interest in people, enjoying watching the way they interacted and studying the patrons, and he could do it all while safely behind his bar. With such a close-knit community like Wolfden, Davey knew everyone, their names and their friends and family and their favourite drinks, and he loved learning knew things about them with every visit.

In the midst of wiping down the tables for what felt like the millionth time today, he hears the heavy wooden door swing open. Turning to face the patron, he realises with a bit of surprise that he didn't recognise the garb the man was in. With a cowl over his head and a cloth masking all but his eyes, Davey couldn't tell which one of the locals managed to get their hands on all this fancy new rogue gear.

Returning to his place behind the bar, Davey sends a smile in the direction of the newcomer. "How can I help ya?"

The rogue (who is built in a stocky way that Davey can definitely appreciate, even under all of that gear) pushes a hand through his hair, in the process, letting his cowl fall back to his shoulders. Davey's pretty sure he doesn't recognise those deep brown eyes, crinkled at the corner from a mischievous smile that hides behind his mask. When the rogue pulls his mask down to his neck, Davey knows for sure that he hasn't seen this man because he would definitely have remembered a face like that.

The man swaggers his way up to the bar and sits heavily down on a stool, grinning the whole time. "Does anyone ever get anything other than ale?" The man jokes.

"Well, sometimes they get water. And if they're feeling fancy, it's wine," Davey responds, smiling.

"Well, I ain't exactly the fancy type, so one ale, then." After a brief hesitation, he says, "The name's Jack Kelly, by the way."

"Davey, Davey Jacobs," he responds, and then he starts preparing the drink. "You're not from here, are ya? Because everyone here knows everyone else, and I ain't ever seen ya. So what brings ya to Wolfden?"

Jack scratches at his jaw. "You ain't wrong there. I'm from Gilramore, but I hate that damn place. Streets down there were suckin' the life outta me. So the moment I got enough to survive out on my own, I bolted. Needed the fresh air… y'know how it is," Jack said, waving his hand.

Davey hums in acknowledgement, and places Jack's mug of ale gently on the bar in front of him. "So how's that been so far? Bein' out on your own can't be easy."

"Yeah, well it ain't as if my life was plenty easy before," Jack says, and Davey could hear that, as casually as Jack had said it, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Davey sends Jack an empathetic look. 

"Well, are your folks alright with the whole…adventuring thing you're doin'?" Davey asks, genuinely curious.

"I ain't got no folks," Jack says, and he's so casual about it that Davey gets the impression Jack's had this very conversation more times than he'd like. And, Davey notes, it makes sense that Jack hates his hometown. In many of the bigger towns, Gilramore included, orphan kids were taken in by rich families and treated like butlers and maids, forced to do whatever was asked of them and, more often than not, stripped of their childhood. All because some rich bastards thought that orphaned children had to work to prove that their lives had any worth.

Davey reaches out to place a hand on Jack's forearm, which was resting on the bar. As they lock eyes, Jack sees the most genuinely sympathetic look, on a face that he had realised was undeniably attractive since he first stepped into this tavern. It didn't help that Davey had such deep, warm eyes which Jack had gotten lost in immediately. "Jack, I'm so sorry," Davey says, and Jack wonders how this man who's just met him is capable of so much compassion for a stranger.

Jack smiles, and it's a bit forced although, for the most part, the smile is genuine enough. "Dave, it ain't a big deal. It's not exactly news to me that my parents are gone, y'know?"

Davey smiles in return, rolling his eyes at Jack's unbothered nature. "I know, but still," he says, pulling his hand away.

There's a moment of silence as Jack gulps down about half his mug, before Davey's curiosity gets the best of him. In his defence, he likes this job because it lets him connect to people, and hear about their stories, so he's even more excited to hear the stories of the rogue mysterious rogue from far away.

"So what have you been doing so far, now that you're out on your own?"

Jack smiles wider this time, and he's obviously excited to share stories with someone who'd listen.

"Oh, man, Dave. It's been amazin' out 'ere. Mostly, I go town to town, help 'em solve whatever problems they's got. Ya think that'd be borin', right? But there's been a lotta real good stuff, real interestin', betcha it'd make front page if anyone wrote about it." 

Davey raises an eyebrow, intrigued at what these events may have been. "Well, go on, then. Don't just keep me waiting!" he jokes.

"Alright, so there was this one in, uhh… Fallholt, I think was it. They'se got the best swords there. I'd buy one if I used swords but eh. Anyways, so they's been havin' these problems, yeah? Tons of them livestock been goin' missin' for a few days, and at first, people were thinkin' that maybe someone's been stealin' em. Maybe some wolves been passin' by and thought they'd have a snack before goin' on their way. But everyone thought somethin' was fishy. So they'se was thinkin' that, y'know, maybe it was the new guy who just came to this town a couple'a weeks ago. But he's been outta town and so it ain't exactly possible."

"So what was it? A mother dragon? Those tend to steal livestock to feed their babies, right? Or was it, I don't know, bandits?"

"Davey, I'm gettin' there, just hold on!" Jack laughs. "Alright, so nobody knows what's goin' on and I just got to this town and cows'n sheep have been going missing for three days. So, naturally, I start askin' around. Followin' clues'n all that. The guards already searched every house in town, and it seems'at nobody's been stealin' nothing. But, apparently, the guards overlooked a lil piece of evidence that I happened to find. Large drag marks that start right at the edge of town, leadin' into the forest. There's drops of blood, too, so I'm pretty sure it's our culprit. The tracks lead into a cave and, I ain't smart but I'm no idiot either. A cave ain't the best place to just barge in and hope you don't lose the element of surprise. So instead, I hang around outside the cave, 'cause whatever's inside has to leave eventually to steal some more animals, and what better time to attack than when it's on the way back and busy with moving an entire cow.

"I'm waitin', and it's been hours at this point but, just as the sun sets, I hear a scream. Like a real scream, blood-curdlin', like he was in real bad pain. But then the scream turns into this roar, and it sure as hell ain't human. And then, it leaves its cave. He was this big, real huge wolf, bout four times the size of any old wolf, with this bloodied black coat of fur. And I knew I was in trouble, 'cause as soon as he stepped out, he started sniffin', as if he smelled something different. Then suddenly, he snarled in the direction where I was hidin', and I knew I was screwed. Now, I wasn't exactly prepared to take on a werewolf, and none'a my daggers'n arrows are made of silver. I hit him with a couple of arrows from where I was hidin', but it didn't even phase 'em. He kept comin' closer t'me, so I got out my dagger.

"It wasn't an easy fight, Dave, and I wrestled with em for what felt like hours, and he didn't let up! Eventually though, I managed t'knock em out, bleed em a lil dry so he was just out cold for a bit. But uh, he got a few good hits in, too," Jack said, hesitating a little before pulling down the layers of fabrics around his neck to show the beginning of four slashes, healed but still obviously scarred, that seemed to only thicken as they disappeared under Jack's clothes. "One hell of a gift to remember him by," Jack laughed. "The town's people were real glad I caught 'em. Turns out, the newcomer was a werewolf, and he came over to Fallholt after accidentally killing someone in his last town. Got exiled and moved over there. He was gonna wait out the effects'a the full moon in the cave, but well, looks like his wolf side still screwed things up for 'em whenever it's near the full moon."

Davey, who had been an extremely good listener and supportive audience, nodding and humming at all the appropriate parts, finally spoke up. "Did he get arrested?"

"Nah, the town's council did want to, though. But I told 'em that he didn't have much control over what he did when he was transformed. And that he'd tried his best not to let anyone get hurt. 'Pparently, they was thankful enough that I stopped him that they actually listened t'my advice. I think they'se got a safe room for any other werewolves who needa be kept locked during their full moons."

Davey smiles and nods at that, silently thankful for the answer he got. Too many adventurers and guards and knights weren't exactly outstanding guys. Lots of them exerted unnecessary violence, regardless of the situation. He'd heard stories about guys beaten half to death or even killed for doing something bad out of desperation, and although some people had, maybe, deserved it, he knew that too many didn't. Which is why, upon hearing that Jack had actually stood up for the man who had wounded him so badly, he was impressed and pleasantly surprised. Of course, it wasn't as if he thought that Jack was a bad guy, but it would have been so easy for Jack to just allow the man to be persecuted for something he did but had no control over.

For some reason, it was the realisation that Jack Kelly had a strong moral code that actually made Davey's face feel warmer and his heart beat just a little bit faster. Of course, Jack Kelly was attractive, there was no doubt about that. But there was something about everything he'd pieced together about this stranger so far that drew Davey in even further. Every scar has a story, Davey realises. Suddenly, Davey becomes aware of the scar that cuts over Jack's lips, and the fresher one that reddened the skin high on his cheeks. Even his hands were covered in little nicks and slashes from battles that have come and gone. His fingertips and palms, on the other hand, were terribly calloused and hardened, likely due to the upbringing that he had had. And all of a sudden, Davey wants nothing more than to learn the stories of every one of these marks and scars and wounds that pepper Jack's body, wants nothing more than to feel the tiny bumps of healing skin under his fingers. He wants to learn about Jack Kelly.

But then, Davey snaps back into reality, and realises that he's probably thinking too much about a stranger he's not even sure he'll see again. So instead of reaching out to caress the scar on Jack's lips like he wants to, instead, Davey says, "You're a good man, Jack."

"Gee, uh, thanks Dave. That ain't the reaction I usually get when I talk 'bout beatin' on werewolves, but it's…nice," Jack says. His cockiness that he'd been displaying throughout his entire monologue had practically melted away, and Davey can feel his heart speed up again as he watches Jack scratch at the back of his neck, averting his eyes as if he was too shy to receive the compliment, but too polite to refuse it.

Jack finishes his drink, and he stares down the bottom of his mug as he does so, before wiping his mouth on the back of his gloves, to Davey's disgust. "Hey, uh, Davey. Do ya always work here?"

"Seeing as I both own this place and live upstairs, the answer is yes."

"Mmm good, good," Jack responds, a little distractedly. He stands up to leave and takes out a couple of coins to pay for the drink. He holds his hand out to Davey, as an invitation for Davey to take the coins from his hand which, Jack admits, is a strange way of handing over any form of currency. Somehow, Davey doesn't question it, and puts a hand over Jack's in an attempt to grab the payment, but as soon as he does so, Jack closes his fingers around Davey's hand and pulls it up slightly, tilting his head down the rest of the way to gently brush his lips over Davey's knuckles, all while keeping his gaze locked with Davey's. To his credit, Davey doesn't freak out or pull away or panic when Jack does this. He turns unbelievably red, yes, and his heart is about to burst through his chest, but he manages not to flinch. When Jack's grip on his hand loosens, Davey even remembers to slide the money out of Jack's palm.

As he turns to leave, Jack manages to say "I'll see you soon, Davey." It's shy, and Jack all but sprints out of the tavern, almost but not quite missing Davey's own shy, "Goodbye, Jack Kelly."


	2. wolves ate my almost-boyfriend (not clickbait)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighter class guys are usually annoying, potions are brewing and Jack Kelly can't cook but he can take down a pack of wolves.
> 
> Nobody's perfect, Davey reasons.

The next morning, Sarah drops by unannounced to 'spend some quality time' with him. It must be some sort of one-way twin telepathy because Sarah always seemed to know when Davey had something to talk about.

"I didn't peg you as the type to be interested in rogues, Davey. Since when were you into badboys?" she asks, the corner of her lips curling upwards in a teasing smirk.

"I'm not! Usually, at least. You know what I think of those paladin and warrior types, and rogues are usually about the same but with a little less self-righteousness and usually, a lot more pick-pocketing," Davey responds, a little bit indignantly. His sister hums in understanding. She's heard Davey go on and on for enough times about the "toxic masculinity of most of the male adventurers", and how he "hates how snobbish and stuck up a lot of them are, always insisting that they're right about everything". Davey's only met one paladin who isn't that much of an asshole, or at least, he didn't tell Davey about how important the King and God were, and so on and so forth. Davey isn't even sure this paladin actually had a religion? He was pretty morally grey, for the most part. But even though he was much more palatable than his co-workers, he was still extremely gruff and difficult to talk to. The paladin, who went by Spot, for some reason, had been introduced to Davey by their mutual friend, Race. Apparently, Spot had been assigned a patrol route that went past Wolfden several years ago. In the midst of his patrolling, Race had managed to help him arrest some bandits out to the north of Wolfden. After that, they had shared a couple of drinks and, well, eventually they ended up being a couple. Now, Spot spends all of his off days in Wolfden, his own small home near the King's Palace in Ashborne was left untouched.

"Well, what's so special about this Jack fellow, then?" Sarah asks, playing the role of a nosy sister far too well.

"He's actually, y'know, morally upright. And not in that bullshit self-righteous way that all those fighter class guys usually are," Davey exclaims, and then catches his sister giving him a look that urged him to keep talking.

"He's handsome and charming, and he acts like a bigshot and a tough guy, but the moment you actually compliment him, he's shy. And he had a difficult upbringing but he's gotten away from his hometown and he's going out to do what he wants. He goes town to town taking up quests to help people!" Davey exclaims, in slight exasperation over how much he appreciates this new acquaintance of his, and he has to admit that it's clear that he's fallen for the man.

"Woah, I see you're really into him, huh, Davey?" Sarah says, properly engaged now, because Davey talks about Jack in a way that he's yet to talk about anyone so far. At best, he's pointed out which guys he considered attractive to Sarah, but he hasn't done the whole 'rambling sickeningly sweet things about your romantic interest' thing before.

"I…I don't know, I guess? And I think… that he might be interested in me as well?" Davey says, unsure and hopeful. Sarah perks up at this and nods at Davey, signalling him to elaborate. "He, uh, he took my hand before leaving and kissed the back of my hand?"

Sarah smiles at this. At the very least, Jack is being gentlemanly in how he treats Davey, and perhaps he might even court her brother. Sarah has, admittedly, been interested in Davey's love life since they were nine, but there was never anything that lasted, if there was anything at all. "Well, that does sound like he's interested," she says, gently. "But be careful, don't fall so fast that you end up getting hurt."

Davey thanks her for her advice, and then the two move on to other things, like Sarah's job as the head of the guards in this town, her girlfriend and hopefully soon-to-be-wife, Katherine, and updates about the family, since Davey's moved out from the home that he'd grown up in at the Eastern end of Wolfden and Sarah's work had her passing by home more often than he did. She leaves just as he decides that it's time to open up the tavern and she wishes him the best of luck with Jack, after giving him a parting kiss on the cheek. He tells her to come back whenever.

There are more customers today than yesterday, and the farmer's son from next door, Mush, comes over for a drink. 

He tells Davey about the new chicks that just hatched, and how the old family cow was expecting a calf. Davey listens attentively, and responds however is appropriate, just thankful for the comfortable interaction between himself and Mush. The guy comes into the tavern on a nearly weekly basis, and Davey's gotten a little fond of some of his whackier stories about the things that go on around the farm. Mush mentions being interested in the guard with an eyepatch -- Davey knows his name is Blink, or at least, he goes by Kid Blink because Sarah's mentioned him before -- and Davey suddenly realises that he never even knew that Mush was, well, not straight.

"Huh, didn't know you liked guys, Mush," he said, off-handedly.

"Well, it ain't just guys," Mush replies, rubbing his chin. "But it ain't like I been hiding it or nothin'. Guess it just never came up?"

Davey nods at this, and smiles to make sure Mush didn't get the impression that he wasn't alright with it, and then wishes Mush all the best with Blink. He even mentions getting Sarah to mention him to Blink, and Mush blushes a little at that. "Nah, you're gonna make the whole town know!" he laughs. "I'll ask 'em out…some day."

Mush leaves after a mug. There are a few smaller groups who came in later in the day. The men and women, that Davey recognised as tailors, came in a group for lunch, which Davey prepared. They were engaged in their own business-related conversations, so Davey didn't talk to them much, and he got bored eavesdropping after a few minutes of discussions regarding the merits of different types of cloth and dyes. Other people strolled in at random points in the day, some just asking for water before leaving to return to work, and others stopping to have small talk over ale, talking about things like the weather, and if anyone he knew had been affected by the dragon attack. Another man asked if Davey had heard the news of a wolf pack terrorising the neighbouring town which was exciting news, actually.

Or it would have been, if not for the fact that everything paled in comparison to what Davey had spent an entire day and all of last night looking forward to: Jack Kelly's return to this tavern.

Thus, the entirety of Davey's day felt like an agonisingly slow crawl towards whenever Jack would return, and everytime a person who wasn't Jack Kelly burst through the door, Davey had to deal with another surge of disappointment. Eventually, the sun set, and there had been no new customers for what felt like hours, and Davey figured it was time to lock up.

He slides the locking mechanism of the door into place, reluctant yet refusing to be desperate and hopeful like a naive pup, and forces himself to begin cleaning up, starting with sweeping up the floors of the tavern. Just as he finished sweeping, he heard an urgent rapping on the door. He sighs in frustration, wondering who would be bothering him at this hour, when his tavern was obviously closed.

When Davey opens the heavy wooden door, he's pleasantly surprised. Jack Kelly was standing in front of him, a few new tears in his cloak and his full rogue gear, mask and cowl included, were all still on him. Jack pulls his mask down, and Davey notices the beads of sweat on his face.

"Sorry… I'm late," he huffs out between gasps of air. "Got caught…up fighting…wolves…got ya somethin' though."

Davey smiles as he rolls his eyes, and steps aside to let Jack into the tavern, before closing the door behind him.

"Did you take down the pack of wolves I heard attacked Rougeville?" Davey asks.

"Them's the ones. They'se vicious, too. Got their damn teeth in me. I got it checked out, though. Which was why I got here so late. Didn't wanna show up infected," Jack joked.

"What a hero," Davey jokes back. "I thank you on behalf of all of Wolfden for saving us from those big bad wolves."

"Oi, those bastards were tough!" Jack exclaimed defensively, but the smile on his face gave away that he was joking as well.

"Well, not to pull attention away from Wolfden's finest hero, but you mentioned a gift for me?" Davey asked, curiosity clear on his face.

"Oh, yeah! I did! Found it while I was out huntin' wolves. Figured I'd uh, give it to you." Bashfulness wasn't a look Davey expected of Cocky Rogue Adventurer, Jack Kelly, but he decides right then that he liked it.

Jack reaches into a leather pouch that hung off one of the numerous belts of his gear, this one in particularly was wrapped high around his right thigh. He pulled something out from the pouch and presses it into Davey's hand.

Studying it, Davey was in awe. It was a teardrop-shaped stone, and its colours morphed continously, an ever-changing gradient. The stone itself was smooth, though not glassy, and it was cool to the touch.

"'S'a healin' stone. Figured nobody don't need one of those, and even if ya don't like stones, it's uh, pretty. And I guess it reminded me of you or somethin' 'cause I saw it and figured it'd be perfect." Jack hesitated for a second as he was met with silence. "'Course, if y'don't like it, you don't have t'keep it, I can just take it back or-"

"Jack, it's beautiful."

"Oh."

"It's amazing! A-are ya sure you're okay just givin' it to me?" Davey asks, and his face is an image of pure excitement. Sure, he mans this tavern, but he's got a ton of books and self-conducted research and experiments on all things magical, he even spent most days in school focused solely on magic and sorcery. A healing stone this beautiful was rare -- most had a rough exterior and the colours were never this vibrant -- and equally powerful, and it was something he'd only dreamt of until today.

"Gee, I uh, I'm glad ya liked it, Dave. I wasn't sure, but I'm really glad ya like it," Jack responded, rubbing the back of his neck again, which was a habit, Davey realised, that Jack did when he was nervous.

"I do, thanks, Jack," Davey said as earnestly as possible. "Actually, I uh practice magic in my free time?"

"You got free time outside'a this job?" Jack asked, a little incredulous that Davey managed to find time to do anything when he was the only one running the tavern.

"There are a lot of slow days. When nobody's around I get a little bit of spell-casting practice or extra readings in."

"D'ya still go to school for that?"

"Nah, I can learn more than the school teaches me just by being here. Plus, the nearest school of magic is Alderia, which is a couple of towns over. I'd rather be able to keep an eye on my family. And school ain't cheap."

Jack nods at this, appreciative that Davey is as practical as he is. "I actually never learnt any of that magic stuff. Didn't get an education as a kid," Jack says, putting emphasis on education so it sounds like 'ejoocation'. Davey nods in understanding. 

"Well, I could teach ya? Just a few simple spells, or charms to help with quests. I've actually closed up shop for the night when you got here so if you're free right now, you can stay for a bit?"

Jack considers this, and he needs no more than a brief moment before deciding that "Yeah, Dave, that'd be great!" He thinks for a second before adding, "Sorry for cutting into your 'you time'," and smiling apologetically.

Davey waves it off and tells Jack to wait for a bit while he gets a few things sorted out back in the kitchen. After less than a minute, he pops his head out from inside the kitchen. "I forgot to ask, have you eaten yet? If you're hungry, I could probably whip something up?"

"Ahh, I ain't eaten yet, no, but I killed a deer earlier on and I can probably cook that when I get home."

Davey considers this for a second. "Nah, give me the deer meat. Actually, why don't you come in here, I can talk you over some basic magic stuff while I get this ready."

"Aw, gee, Dave. Ya really don't gotta-"

"Jack, just get in here," Davey interrupts, not unkindly as he rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. Jack raises his hand in surrender.

40 minutes, and a few poofs of odd-coloured smoke later, Davey's left with decorating the meal he's made of the deer that Jack had killed, and Jack had finally managed to more-or-less perfect a potion to improve his luck for a few hours. Davey finishes up the meal, and hands the dish to Jack as he grabs the potion bottle that Jack had been working on. He takes a whiff of it, before coughing a little. 

"Yeap, that smells about right," he says. The potion for luck had been one that he was tested on, back in school, because it covered a few of the more important techniques in brewing spells, and required a decent amount of speedand accuracy. It wasn't particularly difficult, but it made sure you had enough of the basics to brew the other, more difficult potions. "I can give you the instructions for other potions, if there are any in particular that you like. And I can go through any of the harder ones that you want," Davey adds, grabbing a potion book from a higher shelf. When he glances over to Jack, he nearly bursts out laughing.

Jack's face was one of pure bliss, his cheeks stuffed with food. He manages to speak around his mouthful of food, although without any grace at all, "Davey, Dave. I haven't tasted anything this good in my life. You are an angel, Davey Jacobs." The sounds of satisfaction that Jack made was near obscene, and Davey couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"Jack, it's just food."

"But it's good food!" 

"Well, how do you cook things?"

"I just…leave things over a fire 'til it ain't bloody," Jack admits, a little sheepishly.

Davey laughs again, shaking his head. "Jack, I'm not sure that even counts as cooking."

Jack would mind having his cooking critiqued like this, but compared to how well Davey cooked, his own meals suddenly didn't seem like it classified as cooking. "Well, add that to the list of things ya gotta teach me," he jokes.

"'Course, but in the mean time, feel free to come by and buy something off the menu," Davey jokes back.

Jack finishes the meal while Davey copies over a few instructions for potions that seem like they nay be helpful to Jack, like the ones that increase stamina and strength for his romps and battles in the day. Jack has the courtesy to wash his own dish, and the other cooking utensils that Davey had used in the preparation of the meal, despite Davey's protests of "but you're the guest!"

When the dishes were done, Jack says "Guess I should, uh, get goin'."

Davey nods, before the thought suddenly comes to him. "Where are you staying, anyways?" Davey asks, because it only occurred to him that he owned an inn, but Jack wasn't staying here, so he had to be lodging elsewhere.

"Oh! I'm staying with an old pal of mine, Crutchie. Kid's practically a brother to me," Jack answers, smiling fondly. "He, uh, didn't have any folks, either. We was workin' for the same family, practically grew up together."

Davey knows Crutchie, although he lives pretty central and is rather busy with tending to his vegetable farm so they don't meet often. He also knows that Crutchie had a knack for avoiding mentions of his past, and Davey could guess why, if he'd grown up with Jack.

"How come he didn't leave town with you?" 

"He hurt his leg real bad when we was younger. They got rid'a him after that. He got sent off here, but Crutch never forgot me. Wrote me daily, till I finally left the town." 

Davey nods and hums in understanding at this.

"Guess I'll uh, go now," Jack says again, sensing that the conversation was over.

Davey walks him out to the front door and holds it open for Jack, who thanks him. He's suddenly aware of how Jack had kissed his knuckles with chapped lips so gently yesterday, and his breath is suddenly caught in his chest as he wonders if anything will happen this time Jack leaves.

It feels like something might, as the two stand just an inch closer than they should, and Davey doesn't miss the way Jack's lips are parted and how his eyes dart down to Davey's lips for a fraction of a moment.

And suddenly, they both turn away, Davey blushing furiously as Jack clears his throat. Jack steps back a little, before looking Davey in the eyes again, his own eyes hopeful and searching for something. "It's good seeing you today, Dave."

He finds what he had been searching for as Davey smiles a soft smile so genuine and kind and adoring, Jack nearly melts. "You too, Jack. See you soon."

As soon as Davey shuts the door to his tavern, he slumps against it. It takes him a long while before he manages to stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss Jack long enough to clean up, shower, and get ready for bed.

Jack, on the other hand, practically sprints his way halfway across town, spinning and leaping over obstacles as he does so. Adrenaline and hopeful maybes and a promising near future has him ecstatic and yearning, and he can't slow down, he doesn't think he'll be able to slow down for a while. And when he reaches Crutchie's home, he hugs his brother tightly, picks him up and spins him round.

"So didja get t'kiss him yet?" Crutchie asks, laughing as Jack puts him down.

"Nah, I ain't kissed em yet, I mean, I came close to kissin' em I just! Didn't wanna move too fast and mess up or somethin', ya know?"

"Nah, Davey's a good kid. He'll probably forgive you for kissing him even if he ain't interested," Crutchie laughs. "A little bird told me that ya chances are pretty good, though."

Jack perks up at that, and gives Crutchie the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage, even though that had stopped working since they were ten.

Crutchie tells him, anyways, because he had intended to. "Kath's dating his sister. She came buy for some lettuce today and she may or may not have mentioned somethin' Davey said about you."

"You're bluffin'," Jack accuses jokingly, but he's partly serious because he can't wrap his mind around Davey talking about him, and that being a good thing.

"Nope, cross my heart, Jack."

"I never even knew that Sarah's Dave's sister." Jack says, after a second. He's always known that Katherine had been dating a girl named Sarah. She didn't write him quite as often as Crutchie did, with her father hovering over her as he did, but the three had become thick as thieves that one evening where a ballroom full of rich adults had left all the children, wealthy daughters and orphan boys alike, to their own devices. Mr. Pulitzer had immediately labelled Crutchie and Jack as delinquents, but Katherine had kept in touch through the occasional letter. It got unbelievably easier to keep in touch when she was finally old enough to move out and live in Wolfden, where Crutchie had been located.

"Yeah, well. Small world, huh, Jack?"

"Mm. She older than 'im?"

"Nah… think they're twins, actually."

Jack nods, making the mental note that he's only a year (technically a few months) older than Davey, before returning his attention to more important topics. "So, what'd Kath tell ya about what Davey said?"

"Shove off, Jacky!" Crutchie laughed, shrugging off Jack's desperate grip on him. "I already told ya enough. Now get y'self a shower! You're stinkin' up my whole house."

Jack pouts, but does as he's told. Before they both go to bed, Crutchie humours Jack by listening to him recounting the events of the day, giving meticulous detail for only the parts which involve Davey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not pictured: Jack dramatically flinging himself over Spot and Race to wax poetic about the beauty of Davey's eyes and also cooking skills, before Spot shoves him to the floor with little effort.


	3. i tried my best researching how first aid works because i don't actually know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Davey's help, Jack cleans up okay.

The next day, Davey nearly buzzed in anticipation of seeing Jack again. The day went about busily enough, keeping Davey occupied in the absence of Jack. But as the slow stream of people in and out of his tavern began to dissipate, disappointment and later, worry started to pool inside of Davey. The worry that Jack hadn't shown up and may not be as interested in him as Davey had originally believed slowly gave way for worry that he had gotten injured, or worse, out on his own.

Pushing those worries aside, Davey decides to wait and see. Perhaps Jack was just busier today, or had some reason or other for his absence. Davey bargained with himself to save the worry for later, if Jack was still missing-in-action the next day.

He uses the extra time to practice spell-casting in the tavern, being extra careful not to mess up the near-spotless interior. His control over casting elemental spells has improved, he notes, as he managed not to set anything on fire this time. Davey considers this a win, and then settles for getting some light reading in before heading to bed. He pretends that he isn't prolonging his waking hours in hopes that Jack Kelly will suddenly arrive, unbelievably late and equally sorry. That doesn't happen, and Davey dozes off with a book in his hand and his bedside lamp still switched on, with no interruptions to his slumber.

Davey wakes up the next morning, and the disappointment and worry assaults him as soon as he gathers his senses, which happens to only be after he's made a cup of coffee. Ensuring that his ingredients are all ready, and that he's still stocked on ale and wine, he starts the day and mentally prepares himself for the waves of hope that will hit him everytime the wooden door creaks open.

By the fourth time the door opens to reveal a disappointment (which meant anyone but Jack), Davey decides that crushes are the absolute worst thing.

* * *

The day starts out as a leisurely stroll, that gets progressively slower until it's practically crawling to a close. Or at least, that's how Davey felt it go by. As he closes up, he decides that he might just ignore how obviously infatuated he might seem and just show up at Crutchie's house to make sure that Jack was alive at least. He's got priorities, though, so Davey ensures his tavern is in the same spotless state that he leaves it in every night, despite rushing his clean-up this time around. Satisfied with his work, Davey locks up the tavern and braces the cold night's wind as he takes the path towards Crutchie's home.

He gets maybe an eighth of the way there before he comes across his sister's girlfriend, Katherine, who calls out to him as she spots him.

"Davey!" Katherine calls out, pleasantly surprised to have found him, as she gracefully dismounts the horse that she had been on. Davey's comforted by her presence, having had a pretty familial relationship with her since Sarah introduced her to him.

"Hey, Kath, what are you doing all the way out here?" Davey asks, pulling her into a hug. It's pleasant to see Katherine, but she hardly leaves her desk except to run errands for herself and Sarah, but it was late and most of the market and any shops would be closed by now.

"Actually, I was on my way to see you."

"Oh! Sarah's not with you?"

"No, she's got the night shift today, but she asked me to find you."

"Well, you've found me," Davey laughs. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Ah, she wanted me to let you know that Jack Kelly -- the boy you've just met but are madly in love with, somehow -- hasn't been in town since yesterday."

Davey rolls his eyes fondly, because of course Sarah would know him well enough to know that he'd be concerned. "You know Jack? Do you know where he's been?"

"Yeah, Jack, Crutchie and I go a long way back, although not quite as long as the two of them go. Anyways, I got news of a lot of deaths and hauntings happening to passers-by between here and Rougeville, and the paladins are currently holed up protecting the king while he opens the kingdom up to royalty from the neighbouring countries. So, I asked Jack and Race to help check it out. I think I may have underestimate the hauntings, though, because it seems that they're all still out there, handling it." Katherine pauses to chew on her lip as she thinks for a moment. "I'd have sent a bird out to Jack, but I'm worried it would compromise their position, if they're hiding out right now."

"Hauntings? Is it bad?" Davey askes, curious as to what kind of haunting might take days to be dealt with.

"Maybe? I thought it might just have been regular spectres, but spectres aren't hard to get rid of, so it might be wraiths, or banshees, or just…something else," Katherine seems concerned and thoughtful as well, having sent off her own friends to investigate. "I really hope it wasn't a mistake not to have sent more people."

Davey places a hand on Katherine's shoulder. "I hope so too, but you've never been wrong before, so maybe this will be fine."

Katherine gives Davey a thankful smile. "Do you want to come over to have dinner with Crutchie and me?" she asks, after a moment of brief silence.

Davey declines politely, saying he should be getting back and wishing Katherine a good night, while asking her to send his regards to Crutchie.

Davey tries not to worry as he returns home and tries to keep from over-thinking his way through the night.

* * *

The next day, Davey feels his anxiety like a malevolent haunting, as it preyed on him throughout the day, only growing as the day started to turn dark.

He was obviously worried, and probably over-reacting and also excessively concerned over a man he'd just met.

And yet here he was, all but obsessing over the man's safety and trying not to imagine the worst possible scenario, with the slight paranoia that it may just jinx…something.

Obviously distracted, Davey had received a couple of concerned glances from older couples who came by for a meal or a cold drink to cope with the beating waves of the sun. Although, as anxious as he felt, he was still functional enough to give a gentle smile and brush it off with the excuse of a headache.

Eventually, despite how much he wanted to pretend otherwise, it had gotten too late to keep the tavern open. And so, Davey reluctantly found himself locking up, and wiping down the tables for the 8th time that night. Then, he let muscle memory take over as he prepared for bed, and hoped that he'd have better luck tomorrow.

Sleep claimed him quickly enough, the product of being emotionally drained from being anxious for an entire day.

* * *

Davey awakens, startled. He can see, from his bedroom window, that it wasn't dawn yet. And then, he hears it again: a loud, deliberate few knocks on the front downstairs.

Of course, Davey has had his fair share of locals coming here, already drunk, in the dead of night and hoping for another drink. Ordinarily, he would choose to wait for then to leave, but Davey didn't want to risk missing whoever was at the door, so he gets up, putting on slippers as he leaves his bedroom and rushes downstairs.

Opening the door, he's really glad he hadn't just waited for the person at the door to leave.

Standing there, in front of him, was a pretty beat-up Jack Kelly, blood drying on his face and gear. His lip was split, and there was a bruise grazing his cheek. His clothes were ripped in several places, and open wounds peeked out from under the tears.

Attempting to smirk, before wincing at the pain in his cheek and lips, he says "Hey, Davey," and his voice is hoarse.

"Hell, Jack you look terrible," Davey manages to say as he steps aside and lets Jack drag himself inside.

"You should'a seen the other guy," Jack jokes, and Davey locks the door and then rushes to pull out the nearest seat, which Jack was grateful for. He muttered a word of thanks before pretty much collapsing into the wooden seat. Davey leaves him briefly to get the chest that he had stocked with first aid equipment, as well as a few health potions, which would be able to soothe and heal most, if not all, internal injuries. 

"Where've you been? What happened, I was worried sick!" Davey says, and his tone is scolding, but his voice is soft as he pulls a chair out to sit right in front of Jack so that he could tend to the injuries. Tenderly leaning in, he dabs cloth, dipped in water and alcohol, at the three parallel wounds that run from his cheek to his jaw. Jack winces.

"Sorry," Davey says, pulling away before continuing, making sure to be more gentle.

"It's fine, just stings a little," Jack breathes out, and tries to keep himself from flinching whenever Davey dabs the cloth at his skin. Jack's not sure where to look while Davey leans in so close to him. In fact, he doesn't even think he knows how to breathe. There's so much focus on Davey's face, and Jack wonders if Davey feels as tense as he does; if he finds the situation just as intimate as Jack does.

"Do you want me to get ice for your face?" Davey asks, voice quiet as he cleans the blood off of Jack's face.

"Nah, s'fine," Jack replies, just as quiet. They're so close to each other even a whisper would have been heard. Davey had stopped cleaning the blood off his face and disinfecting Jack's wounds for some moments, but he hasn't moved away, still leaning in and sitting as close as he had, and their gazes lock. It's difficult to take his eyes off of Davey, Jack finds. 

There's a moment of silence before Davey says, "Jack, I'm going to need you to remove your clothes."

"What?" Jack asks, because it somehow didn't occur to him that he was pretty badly wounded in places other than his face. "No need for that, Dave, it ain't that bad," he protests.

"I'd love to agree with you, but I can't even tell how bad it is when you're still fully-dressed from the neck down," Davey says, deadpan. "Look, I'll help you take these off, okay?"

Jack knows it doesn't mean anything, but he'd be crazy to not be self-conscious undressing in front of his crush, who he'd just met some days ago. But he has to be logical about this, and he really doesn't want to worry Crutchie by showing up at home this badly scratched up, so he agrees.

He and Davey start removing the few belts that he's got slung around himself, useful for keeping things that may be important, including money, things he had to collect for quests, sometimes fruits that Jack would either eat or sell, depending on the day, and a few charms and runes he'd picked up in his adventures.

Then, Davey took off the leather vest that was meant to protect his torso, but had been worn down, punctured, and torn into enough times that it seemed to have a few gashes slashing right through the center. Jack would need to change that before going off anywhere again, he thinks to himself. He removed the braces around Jack's forearms, and carefully put them aside. Finally, all that was left was the thin, long-sleeved brown undershirt that Jack wore under all of his armour. It's ripped apart in several places where the armour hadn't protected well enough, like over Jack's collar bone, at his sides and arms, and over his stomach. When Davey tries to pull this shirt off of Jack, he feels it sticking to his back, and there's a wet, peeling sound as he takes it off properly. Jack hisses in pain a little, but takes it in stride. The light brown shade of the undershirt is near-completely masked by the reddish-brown of drying blood, and the air smells of iron. Davey puts the shirt aside as well. This was expected, given all the wounds.

And despite how expected all of this should have been, Davey is no less mortified and the jagged cut that begins over his stomach, and ends nearer to his back. Fortunately, the injury wasn't too deep, and had even stopped bleeding, probably because Jack had had enough sense to apply pressure to it.

"This is going to need stitching," he declares, and Jack groans because it's always so much fun getting stitched up. "So, this is obviously going to hurt, but I'm going to pour some antiseptic as well as a healing potion over your wound, to disinfect it and help it heal a little faster. That'll probably hurt the worst. After that, I'll stitch you up, and I'll need you to stay still for that part. Then we wrap you up." The rest of the wounds that cover Jack's body aren't so serious as to need stitches, and he'll probably just disinfect and maybe bandage them up.

Jack looks a little antsy, hearing how this will go.

"You scared?" Davey asks, both concerned and teasing.

Scoffing and acting tough, Jack responds, "Do I look scared?" Davey restrains himself from being honest.

"Not at all. Why don't you tell me how you got so badly beaten up, and if Race is okay, while I get you fixed up," Davey offers, so that Jack has something to keep his mind on.

"Yeah, I can do that," Jack breathes out. As Davey starts applying what smells like rubbing alcohol, Jack hisses, louder than before. At the very least, the wound had stopped bleeding because, as bad as it looked, it hadn't cut too deep and it wasn't anywhere close to vital. But it was still going to be a pain to fix up.

With the skin surrounding the wound clear of dried blood, Davey realises that sitting at the same level as Jack would make it difficult to stitch him up. So he could either have Jack lie down on a table, which would not only get his table bloodied but also force Jack to rest on his scratched up back, or he could…

"Davey, what are you doing." Jack sounds both confused and slightly horrified as Davey gets up from his chair and kneels between Jack's legs.

"It'd be an uncomfortable angle to stitch you up otherwise," Davey says, attempting nonchalance, despite how he could feel his face flush. Glancing up, he looks Jack in the eye and asks, "Unless you're not comfortable with it?"

Jack feels like there might just be something extremely wrong about being this attracted to someone who is currently about to put a needle through your skin, so he swallows and pretends that he isn't. "N-nope. You do you, Davey."

Jack was pretty absorbed in watching Davey as he put on gloves and threaded a needle, but when the needle touches his skin, Jack has to look away. The sight alone makes him uneasy. "Where'd ya-- ah, where'd ya learn to stitch someone up, anyways?" Jack asks.

Davey is focused on his task, but he spares Jack a glance before answering, "When your sister's set her whole life on being a guard and keeps getting injured while trying to keep it secret from your parents, you learn a few things." Davey's breathing is even and calm, and he reminds Jack to tell him what happened with the hauntings.

Despite hissing every few seconds, Jack manages to tell the bulk of it. It had become apparent to both Race and himself that the ghosts that they had been battling with, with weapons that had been blessed by Race's boyfriend in case of undead encounters, that those ghosts were tougher than they had expected. The usual ghost, which was likely a product of a violent death or not having a proper burial, would be gone with a few strikes of any blessed weapon. But these ghosts had been persistent and rather resilient, that it became clear they were likely to be some sort of poltergeist or demonic haunting, which meant that they had a to be tied down to something. And so, Jack chose to fight off the apparitions, giving Race, the faster of the two, more time to scramble around, searching for what might possibly be haunted and the source of these annoyingly powerful creeps. Eventually, Race had managed to find the body of a man, which looked as if it had been decomposing for a few weeks, in what looks like it might clerical clothes, and found that there had been several hollow wooden trinkets hanging loosely from his belt. The wooden trinkets, which Race recognised from the days he'd spent flipping through his boyfriend's books on unholy beings out of boredom, had been spirit traps, used by shamans. Its main purpose is to keep and dispose of ghosts and demons that haunt people, but it seems that this man managed to utilise the powerful spirits he had caught, likely from being a cleric, and had kept the spirits on his person for his own purposes. When he died in the forest, the vengeful spirits were still tied down to the traps, but no longer under any control, and would frighten, harass or kill passers-by. They dissipated once Race had set fire to the dozen-or-so spirit traps, leaving a bloodied and injured Jack Kelly, and a slightly-less-wounded Racetrack Higgins. They'd parted ways upon returning, Race heading straight home while Jack, after some consideration, dragged himself over to Davey's tavern.

To Jack's credit, he managed to tell the story without interrupting himself to grimace in pain, for the most part at least. And by the time he was done, Davey had finished, and was left with ensuring the skin around Jack's torso was clean, before he could go on to dressing the wound with some gauze and wrapped it all up with bandages.

And then, Davey sighs in realisation, he would still have to clean the rest of Jack's more minor injuries. He leans back on his heels and glances up to see all the other scars Jack had collected, taking a mental inventory of what he'd have to do, before he accidentally locked eyes with Jack.

"You enjoyin' the view from down there, Dave?" Jack asks, and the words are obviously teasing but there's something in how Jack says it, as if he was having difficulty finding his voice, that makes Davey equally tongue-tied and involuntarily flushed.

"As if," he manages to say, attempting to joke back, but the way he breathes the words out, low and heavy, and the way he bites his lip right after just leaves Jack breathless and hopeful and…scared? It makes Jack just a little bit nervous and maybe a little scared.

Davey stands up, finally, and Jack feels himself finally being able to breathe a little better, while Davey feels his face burn less. Romantic tension or not, Davey needs to finish making sure Jack's injuries are tended to, so he starts removing his bloodied surgical gloves in favour of a new pair, to keep from smearing blood all over cleaner parts of Jack's body. He sets his mind to completing the task at hand, first. They can address the tension once Jack's okay, and maybe even after he's had some rest.

But Jack Kelly left his home town at 19, which was as soon as he could just barely afford it. Jack Kelly stole and trafficked clothes and food for the other mistreated orphans and kids in his town, at the risk of persecution. Jack Kelly took on werewolves and ghosts and even goblins and witches and sirens with little to no planning or thought or preparation.

Jack Kelly is undeniably, extremely, and unbelievably impulsive.

So when Davey sits down, back in his chair right in front of Jack to tend to the more minor wounds, they're both surprised because Jack Kelly is impulsive and he's kissing Davey Jacobs.

It catches Davey off guard, but Jack is still kissing him, hard, when Davey finally registers Jack's lips on his, so he kisses back just as hard because he'd be lying if he said he wasn't ridiculously head-over-heels for Jack. And Jack, feeling Davey's enthusiasm matching his own, grabs Davey's shirt collar with one hand, and crumples the front of the shirt with the other while Davey finds his own hand gripping Jack's hair, with the other cupping the side of his face. They both taste blood from Jack's split lip but neither pull away for what feels like infinity, in the way it will last forever in their minds, and the way it makes them both disappear from the moment, into their own blissful world.

When they do pull away, they're breathless and hopelessly in love with each other, foreheads touching as they stare, before breaking into matching smiles. Reality reappears around them, and Davey realises that he's managed to somewhat straddle Jack, with one knee resting on the chair between Jack's legs, and the rest of him just sitting shamelessly on Jack's right thigh. Embarrassed and shy, but nonetheless ecstatic, Davey pulls himself off of Jack's lap, and Jack whines in response.

"Daaavey, come back," he says, pouting, and Davey rolls his eyes fondly.

"You've still got a lot of wounds that need cleaning and bandaging, so let me finish with this first," Davey responds firmly.

"And after that?" There's a smirk on Jack's face and a look of mischief in his eyes, and Davey doesn't miss the intention behind his words.

"After that, I walk you back to Crutchie's, so you can rest up."

"Aw, Dave, you're no fun," Jack whines, and Davey raises and eyebrow at this.

"You can find out how much fun I can be once you're well-rested," Davey says, and although he's alarmed at how forward he's being, he manages to keep his cool and stay deadpan as he says this, and pours more disinfectant on a piece of cloth.

Jack grins lazily at that, seemingly content with the response. "I'm holdin' ya to that, Davey. I'll come back first thing tomorrow mornin'," he jokes, before wincing again, because Davey's begun disinfecting another trio of scars, decorating his upper arm.

"I have work tomorrow morning. Which you, and everyone else in this town, are aware of," Davey responds, before dressing the scars. They weren't too bad, but they'd probably get irritated from the constant contact of Jack's clothes, so he'd have to bandage them as well.

The rest of the clean-up took a quick ten to fifteen minutes, and then Davey insisted that Jack borrowed one of his larger shirts instead of putting on his bloodied garments so that the bandages wouldn't get dirtied. This led to another fifteen minutes lost to more kissing, this time against the wall in Davey's room. It took Davey every ounce of responsibility in his body, and then some, to push Jack away and insist that he needed to rest, and that they could continue this another time. Soon, he promised at Jack's prompting.

They walked their way back to Crutchie's place, Davey not really trusting that they could put Jack on a horse without him pulling his stitches. The whole way through, Jack had held Davey's hand, which Davey found unexpected, but warm and pleasing, so he didn't comment. The night was cool and breezy and the warmth of Jack's hand was more than welcome. They walked mostly in silence, Jack first thanking Davey for the help, then trying to get Davey to cave and make out with him behind or in anything they happened to walk past, like "behind the stables", or "in that stack of hay". It didn't work, because Davey had a lot of self-control. But he did kiss Jack once or twice anyways, while they walked in silence, because the quiet of the night and the stars hanging soundlessly above them made Jack's presence so electrifying, and Davey felt like he was being pulled towards Jack just holding his hand.

They reached Crutchie's house, and by then, they'd both found peace in silence and the presence of each other, so much so that both were reluctant to leave. Jack keeps his grip on Davey's hand just as strong as he had before. Instead of pulling the door open, Jack pulls on Davey's hand as he leans against the front door, leading Davey to trap him against the door. Hands finding the front of Davey's shirt again, Jack pulls Davey in for what was probably the last kiss of that night, and Davey doesn't argue this time.

This time, Davey steps closer as they kiss, so that Jack is pressed flush against the door and Davey's own body, and he keeps one knee against the door behind Jack, between Jack's legs. Davey kisses him hard enough that Jack finds himself leaning his head back against the door, and he when Davey sucks on his lower lip, Jack involuntarily opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Davey finds himself resting one hand on the door, to keep his weight off of Jack, and the other rests on Jack's chest, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. Jack's arms have found their way around Davey's neck and into his hair, this time, and while the press of the door against him makes the newly-wrapped wounds still cause him pain, Jack can barely notice it when Davey is sliding his hand down Jack's chest and around his waist, cold fingers pressing into his skin, when Davey slides his hand under Jack's shirt.

They kiss for far longer than they should, in the dead of night, cold and kept warm only by each other, and out in the open, against the front door of what is technically someone else's house. By the time they pull apart, the result of some reluctant discipline on Davey's part, they're both disheveled, Davey's hair a complete mess that sticks out in too many directions, and their shirts are both wrinkled from being grabbed at. Both their lips are bruised pink, and Jack can't help but to stare at just how pretty Davey looks. Davey looks away shyly for a second, and then presses a kiss to Jack's cheek.

"Good night, Jack Kelly. Get some rest. After that, you know where to find me." Jack whines and leans into Davey as he pulls away, already missing having him close. Davey steps back and gives Jack a fond look of warning, which Jack actually heeds and backs away.

"Night," he says in return. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Davey. Look forward to it," he says, with a wink, and Davey laughs in response.

Only once Jack has entered the house and shut the door does Davey turn away, and he doesn't even try to hide the smile on his face as he walks back home, cold hands shoved into his pockets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up in the series: how Kath and Sarah met!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every 3-4 days ^^


End file.
